<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Song of the Dark Lantern - Novelization by Deathsmallcaps</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993990">Song of the Dark Lantern - Novelization</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathsmallcaps/pseuds/Deathsmallcaps'>Deathsmallcaps</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon &amp; Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt, Canon, Creepy, Gen, Insults, Lack of confidence, Metaphorical Boxes, Minor Violence, No Smut, Novelization, Purgatory, Song - Freeform, Theft, Yes the midwife really does those things, almost exact words if they aren’t perfect already, betty Boop reference, but it’s not novel length, dont worry, flowery language, i didn’t notice until I wrote this, literally looked up the script and episode, prose, sorry i was having fun with all the different words for darkness, trying to fit people into boxes, underage marriage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:42:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathsmallcaps/pseuds/Deathsmallcaps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally I wrote down the whole episode in prose form. I hope y’all enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Song of the Dark Lantern - Novelization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I did this for my win a commission contest, but I haven’t drawn the pictures for it yet. Please check out this link if you’d like to learn more!<br/>https://deathsmallcaps.tumblr.com/post/184815669504/win-a-commission</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Woodsman walked adjacent to the road, searching for tracks to find Edelwood, but only finding one of the Beast’s turtle servants instead. It crawled away from him, over a root, no doubt reporting to its master. He sighed, and was about to follow it, when he heard an undignified screech of “Stop! No! Hya!”. A beat, and then, “Oh no! The Beast is upon me!”</p>
<p>Hearing the news, the Woodsman peered out at the road, holding aloft the Lantern, and watched a crazed horse and driver gallop away, hauling a cart full of hay. No sign of the Beast yet, but with such blatant fear calling his name, he couldn’t be far away. A hat fell to the ground, the driver making no movement to try and grab it. </p>
<p>———</p>
<p>As the cart bumped and rattled over the tree roots, hay spilling over the sides and onto the muddy ground, a little boy peeked out from the hay. This caused the duck who had been sitting outside the stack to quack, and in turn the little boy gently shushed it.</p>
<p>From inside the stack, a quiet voice called. “Greg, is there a beast out there?”</p>
<p>The little boy looked out onto the dark night, eyes searching, and despite finding no evidence of a beast he made a nervous “Mmm” and pulled himself and the duck into the hay.</p>
<p>“I found a duck,” he said in lieu of an answer. “Do you know how to make eggs from a duck? I’m hungry.”</p>
<p>A teenage boy, a bluebird, and a frog all looked at him, exasperated. A red cone hat and a teapot laid next to them. The teenager, the one who had called him Greg, asked, “What about the beast?”</p>
<p>Immediately the driver repeated, “The Beast is upon me!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t see any beast.” Greg hooked a thumb over his shoulder, then rubbed his tummy. “That driver is nuts. Mmm, nuts.”</p>
<p>“Whew, that’s good.” the teenager whispered back, relieved.</p>
<p>The bluebird, who was now perched on Greg’s head, flapped her wings angrily. “Good?! That crazy driver’s taking us way off course!”</p>
<p>“Really?” asked the surprised teenager.</p>
<p>The bird shrugged. “Yeah, who knows where we are by now with that guy acting all bananas.” She rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“Ooh, banana nut duck bread,” the small child lamented.</p>
<p>Lighting crashed. The horse whinnied. They went around a turn, which threw the whole haystack - with them inside - off the cart. A couple ducks flew out. Most of the inhabitants exclaimed “Whoa!” and landed safely, heads popping out seconds later. Belatedly, Greg yelled “Hoo-ah!” and grinned, arms waving in excitement.</p>
<p>The red cone hat was now on top of the teen’s head, making him look like a young, tall, garden gnome. The teapot now sat upon Greg’s head, vaguely resembling an elephant. The bluebird now perched on the duck’s head.</p>
<p>The stack had landed outside a building. The blue bird gestured to it with one wing and said, “Well, finally some good luck. Let’s go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions.”</p>
<p>“But-” Lightning flashed. The rain pounded even harder. A creepy man stared out from the only upstairs window. A horse neighed and vigorously shook its head, as if to say, “No!”. “But it’s creepy,” the teen finished. “Why don’t you guys go ask for directions, and I’ll just wait out - no, wait, I-I don’t want to be out here by myself. How about you guys-”</p>
<p>“Just go to the tavern!” the bluebird shrieked. She flew off the duck’s head and got all up in his face. The duck began to waddle off.</p>
<p>“Okay! But you ask for directions!” The teen said, leading the group to the tavern.</p>
<p>“Fine, yeah, I’ll do everything.” the bird replied, brimming with annoyance.</p>
<p>“I’m hungry,” Greg complained again.</p>
<p>The Woodsman watched them go in.</p>
<p>The teen tried pushing open the door, grunting.</p>
<p>“Go on!” the bird cried.</p>
<p>“I-It’s stuck. Oh,” responded the teenager, noticing that an Olde English Sheepdog was blocking the door.</p>
<p>He gently pushed, and the dog made a “Pbbbt,” sound, its tongue sticking tiredly out of its mouth.</p>
<p>“E-Excuse me there. Excuse me.” The teen gently rolled the dog out of the way, managing to get the door open just enough to let his group in. They peered around the room, looking at a wide range of all types of people. A band played down-tempo music in the corner, dressed as sailors, the lead whistling a sad, lonely tune. They sat at the only table available, a tankard and some sticky stains indicating that it had already been used that night.</p>
<p>“You. Wait. Here.” Greg emphasized each word with a pat to his frog, who was laying across a whole stool. “I’ll get some food.” It winked at him as he ran off.</p>
<p>“Well, at least it has - music.” The teenager said, sardonically meeting the bird’s eyes.</p>
<p>A lady who looked and sounded like a early-American, middle aged version of Betty Boop came up to the teenager. “Well, hey there, peach pot. Whatcha doing around -,” she noticed the bluebird. “What’s that bird you got there?”</p>
<p>“It’s a-”</p>
<p>“I am Beatrice!” The bird said slightly indignantly, but covered it up well. “These two sweet kids and I got a bit lost in the- AGHH!” she screeched, totally indignant, and then gasped with the teen. The lady had pushed her with a broom. The music stopped.</p>
<p>“No birds allowed in my tavern!” The Tavern Keeper shouted.</p>
<p>“No birds allowed in your-”</p>
<p>“It’s a bad omen when a bluebird enters through your door! It’s bad luck!” Greg managed to snatch some food off the counter.</p>
<p>Somewhat condescendingly, Beatrice replied, “Lady, bluebirds are good luck. We bring joy and happiness to the- AGGH!” Just as she alighted onto the table, she got pushed off with the broom.</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Good luck, bad luck - I don’t need any of it.”</p>
<p>“Curse you lady! Curse you!” Beatrice announced as she hid behind the teen’s neck. “You’ll die someday and I’ll laugh - laugh!” The bird laughed maniacally, and only stopped when her meat shield was knocked over by the broom with an “Oh!”.</p>
<p>“Forget this! I’m out of here! Wirt, you get directions!” Beatrice called to the teenage boy as she flew towards the still-open door.</p>
<p>Still on the floor, rubbing his head, Wirt replied anxiously, “W-Wait, no. I-I don’t want to-”</p>
<p>“Just do it!” were the last words Beatrice spoke as she flew out the door. The dog closed it behind her and plopped down right in front of it once again.</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper put her hands on her hips, and asked, “Who are you two anyway, bringing bad luck to my tavern?”</p>
<p>Greg arrived at the table with the pilfered meal just as Wirt picked himself off of the floor. “I’m Wirt, and this is Gregory.”</p>
<p>A horse appeared at the window next to the table, eyes briefly flashing to the painting of the fox next to it. “And that’s a horse,” the child said, standing on top of the table and pointing at the creature.</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper brushed the comment off. “That’s great, but who are you?”</p>
<p>Wirt looked around nervously. “I’m … Wirt. I-I’m just a guy, I-I guess.” He put his hands on his hips, palms out. “Um, w-what do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Well,” the Tavern Keeper said, drawing it out as she turned to point at a grave, husky man at  a back table, “He’s the Butcher-”</p>
<p>He raised a large knife in greeting. “I’m the Butcher,” he greeted grimly.</p>
<p>She pointed at a tiny man in mostly white. “The Baker-”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” the small man cheered.</p>
<p>“The Midwife-”</p>
<p>The Midwife, smiling widely and clad in green, resembling a vapid frog, still smiled as she coughed a whole fish out of her mouth.</p>
<p>“The Master and Apprentice-”</p>
<p>A tall, dark and handsome man with fancy hair tugged a small child with straw-like hair closer. He had attached a rope around the child’s waist.</p>
<p>“The Tailor-” the Tavern Keeper said with mild disgust.</p>
<p>A weepy man in blue with tiny glasses whimpered.</p>
<p>Finally the woman gestured to herself. “And I’m the Tavern Keeper. Who are you?” A grey, malicious looking man dressed in red appeared at her side. It was the one from the window, earlier.</p>
<p>Greg waved some plates around. “I’m Hungry,” he announced.</p>
<p>Wirt crossed and uncrossed his arms anxiously as he dithered. “I-I-I don’t know. I don’t really like labels. I’m just sort of, like, myself, you know?”</p>
<p>“Maybe he’s simple,” posited the Master dourly.</p>
<p>“No! I-I’m just,” the teen sighed. “I’m just lost. See, w-we’re trying to get to-”</p>
<p>“I’m the Highwayman.” growled the creep in red, standing on the stage, having frightened the band into a corner.</p>
<p>Wirt turned briefly to the Highwayman. “Okay, good to know.” he turned back to the Tavern Keeper. “Well, so, you see-”</p>
<p>“I’m the Highwayman,” he repeated, the band starting up again, clearly terrified. “I make ends meet. Just like any man. I work with my hands. If you cross my path.” Here he started singing, and waving his hands around, staggering. Greg stole more food.</p>
<p>     “I’ll knock you out<br/>     Drag you off the road<br/>     Steal your shoes off your feet<br/>     I’m the Highwayman<br/>     And I make ends meeeeeet”</p>
<p>There he got really close and made a gesture like he was slitting a throat.</p>
<p>The bar cheered. Wirt groaned. He was relieved that the focus was off of him, but he felt intensely uncomfortable. The he saw the food.</p>
<p>———</p>
<p>Outside, it was still raining, and Beatrice was sitting next to the horse. She sighed, exasperated, and turned to speak to the horse. “Hey.”</p>
<p>The horse side-eyed her, which was easy considering he only had one eye on each side of his face. He continued crunching on something, a red stain covering his lips. Then he turned to face the small bird.</p>
<p>She squinted her eyes at him. “Are you wearing lipstick?</p>
<p>The horse licked it all off in one go and snorted playfully at her.</p>
<p>Before she could respond, a voice burst out of the woods, deep and operatic. “Tra la la la!” It sounded mirthfully vicious.</p>
<p>“Hmm? Who’s out there?” Beatrice asked, wary. The horse looked scared.</p>
<p>“Chop the wood to light the fire!” the voice continued.</p>
<p>“What kind of person goes out chopping trees in the middle of a thunderstorm at night?” Beatrice asked rhetorically, flapping her wings in irritation. A pause, then, tucking her wings back in, “What kind of person talks to a horse?”</p>
<p>The horse kind of laughed, kind of neighed.</p>
<p>“Oo-ah,” Beatrice rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>———</p>
<p>Wirt looked around nervously again. The Master and the midwife were growling as they arm-wrestled. Greg brought over more stolen food, his frog riding the plate. A happy old man guffawed near the fireplace, merrily painting a toy soldier.</p>
<p>Wirt looked at the laughing man, went “Hmm”, sighed, and then walked over reluctantly. “Excuse me?”</p>
<p>The man smiled and looked up. “Huh?”</p>
<p>“I was wondering if you knew the way - uh, I mean, I-I’m - her name is Adelaide, and -”</p>
<p>The old man sprung up joyfully, and put a hand on Wirt’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s a girl you’re after, eh?”</p>
<p>“No! I-I mean-” Wirt facepalmed. “Yes, but-”</p>
<p>“Oho! You’re not the witless simple-minded fool everybody take you for.”</p>
<p>Wirt broke in, offended and confused. “Everybody thinks I’m-”</p>
<p>“You’re the young lover!” The man interrupted. He pushed a finger into Wirt’s chest.</p>
<p>“What, young lover? No, uh-”</p>
<p>The man adopted a sly look and poked Wirt with his elbow. “If you really want to get with this Adelaide gal…”</p>
<p>“I-I don’t. I-I mean, I-I-”</p>
<p>The man brushed past the dumbfounded boy towards the a pale, scholarly looking man with a quill pen and paper scroll. The band struck up a happy tune. “Well, here’s what you do.</p>
<p>     Write A loving letter, boy<br/>     That swoops and sweeps and curls<br/>     Calligrapher’s just the thing<br/>     To help you win your girl.”</p>
<p>The old man embraced the Calligrapher, and then held up the scroll, which ornately said ‘Marry Me’.</p>
<p>Wirt blushed, and then noticed the Tailor, no longer weeping, picking at his clothes, looking distastefully at them. He measured Wirt a couple times.</p>
<p>     “Then you’ll need to dress up smart<br/>     The Tailor’s here by chance.<br/>     He’ll stitch your trousers<br/>     Hole your belt<br/>     in fine couture of France.”</p>
<p>The old man rushed over, grinning, and grabbed at Wirt’s shoes.</p>
<p>     “Your shoes, my goodness, how<br/>     They’re worn<br/>     But you’re too young to know<br/>     Nothing courts a woman’s scorn.”</p>
<p>Here he threw Wirt’s shoe at the Midwife, whose nose turned up in disgust. She flung it off the table in front of her, and it smacked into Wirt’s head, then into his hands.</p>
<p>     “More than scuffs on the toe.<br/>      The Cobbler can attend to that-”</p>
<p>A scruffy ginger came over and gently used a hammer to get the shoe back onto Wirt’s foot. The old man wandered over with a triple decker cake.</p>
<p>     “Meanwhile, you must have cake<br/>     The baker and patissier need work<br/>     For goodness sake!”</p>
<p>The baker and patissier came over to mess with the blushing Wirt. The old man just started dancing.</p>
<p>     “High, dee, diddly<br/>     Um-de-dum-de-day<br/>     What a merry time we’ll have<br/>     Upon your wedding day!”</p>
<p>The old man hugged the Calligrapher and Cobbler. In the Patissier’s congratulatory headlock, Wirt asked, “What?”</p>
<p>     “High, dee, diddly<br/>     Um-de-dum-de-day<br/>     There’s work for all when<br/>      Little boys get married!”</p>
<p>The old man put his hands together in glee, and the whole tavern laughed and cheered.</p>
<p>Wirt struggled out of everyone’s grasp. “No, no, no, no. Y-you guys I-I-I’m not getting married. I’m just trying to find-”</p>
<p>No one was listening. The old man booped the top of his hat.</p>
<p>     “That pointy cone upon your head-”</p>
<p>“Oh no, please.” The hat crumpled under the pressure.</p>
<p>     “You can’t be wearing that…”</p>
<p>———</p>
<p>Beatrice shivered as the thunder rolled and the rain got worse. “Mm.” She flew over to the window, frustrated. ‘If I have to be outside, then those jokers do too.” The horse watched.</p>
<p>Greg came up to the open window. “Oh, hey, Beatrice! Do you want some food too?” He offered some sausages.</p>
<p>“No. How’s Wirt doing getting directions?”</p>
<p>Greg looked evasively behind him. “Mmm, pretty good.” He turned around and frowned.</p>
<p>The tavern folk were tossing him in the air.</p>
<p>      “High, dee, diddly<br/>     Um-de-dum-de-day<br/>     What a merry time we’ll have<br/>     Upon your wedding day!”</p>
<p>Beatrice looked over, shook her head, and sighed.</p>
<p>     “High, dee, diddly-”</p>
<p>She flapped out of the window and landed on the horse’s head, which was looking at the woods. Chopping noises and light still came out of it. “What about that woodsman? I bet he knows these woods better than anybody, huh?” She sighed, exasperated again. “Alright horse, good riddance!”</p>
<p>The horse laughed/neighed again as she flew off into the Unknown.</p>
<p>———</p>
<p>Back in the tavern, Wirt was still being lifted up by the celebrating tavern folk. “Lover!” they shouted. “Lover!”</p>
<p>“No, y-you guys, Adelaide isn't - I-I'm just -”</p>
<p>Over the hubbub, the Midwife asked, “Young lover, sing us your love song!”</p>
<p>“Love song?” This was too much for Wirt.</p>
<p>“Yeah, lover!” shouted the Butcher. “Sing us your love song!”</p>
<p>“No, I-I-I don't have a-”</p>
<p>Everybody started chanting, “Sing, lover, sing!” They tossed him, none-to gently on the stage, and just when the chanting got to a scary volume, Wirt turned around with his hat in hand, waving it, and sang. He danced really badly, but Greg was jumping on the table excitedly. He loved watching Wirt perform.</p>
<p>     “OoOoOh!<br/>     My name is Wirt,<br/>     And his name is Greg<br/>     We're related 'cause my mom<br/>     Remarried and then gave birth to<br/>     Him with my stepdad!”</p>
<p>Everybody gave up on the crappy song. Even Greg, who shrugged. It wasn’t good at all. Wirt sighed.</p>
<p>      “We're not from around here<br/>     Can you all give me-”</p>
<p>He grabbed the flute from the Flautist, made the Violinist blow into it briefly, and then gave it back to the Flautist, who played it differently.</p>
<p>     “Some directions today?<br/>     So we can be on our-”</p>
<p>Wirt breathed heavily, pumped himself up, spread-eagled himself while standing on one leg, and then screeched,</p>
<p>     “WaAaAaAaAy?!”</p>
<p>The Butcher declared, “This ain't no love song.”</p>
<p>The tailor sniffled. “It’s a metaphor.” He burst into tears, from joy or pain, no one knew.</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper comforted him. “Keep it together, Tailor.”</p>
<p>The Butcher pounded the table. “Hey!”</p>
<p>Wirt nervously replied, “Uh, yes?”</p>
<p>“I know what you are! You're a Pilgrim!” The Butcher stood up in excitement, knocking over his chair as he pumped his fists into the air.</p>
<p>Wirt rubbed his head in confusion. “What? What, like the - the guys who eat turkey and cranberry sauce?”</p>
<p>“No, you're a Pilgrim!”</p>
<p>“A Pilgrim?” Wirt queried as he was lifted onto the burly man’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“You're a traveler on a sacred journey.”</p>
<p>“You’re the master of your own destiny!” announced the Master.</p>
<p>“The hero of your own story!” said the excited Baker.</p>
<p>Wirt liked the sound of that. He patted his cheek. “A Pilgrim.”</p>
<p>“Tell us your feats, Pilgrim! What other challenges have you overcome?” the Baker begged as he crossed over to the Butcher and Wirt.</p>
<p>“Regale us with your travels, Pilgrim!” demanded the Master.</p>
<p>“One time, Wirt fell on a gorilla.” Greg told everyone, and then picked up his frog. “And helped me find this frog.” After each sentence, the crowd cheered and got closer to the little boy, asking, “More! Tell us more! Tell us more! Let the cat out of the bag! We want to hear it!”</p>
<p>Just as Greg was also being lifted up, Wirt decided to pitch in. “And, oh, uh, I met this helpful Woodsman who told us which direction to go to avoid the beast.”</p>
<p>The whole tavern gasped and dropped the boys. They all started murmuring things like, “The Beast! The Beast. Oh, goodness.”</p>
<p>From the floor, Wirt asked, “Oh, you guys have heard of the beast, too?”</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper spoke up for the terrified crowd. She utilized the shadows to emphasize the sinister qualities of the Beast, making everybody even more scared. “We all know the Beast, Pilgrim.” The band struck up again, mournful and eerie.</p>
<p>     “He lurks out there in the unknown,<br/>     Seeking those who are far from home,<br/>     Hoping never to let you return.”</p>
<p>The Deeper voiced individuals all let out an “Oh Oh Oh” before the Tavern Keeper flicked her dog, who shrieked.</p>
<p>      “Ooh-ooh, better beware,<br/>      Ooh-ooh, the Beast is out there.<br/>      Ooh-ooh, better be wise<br/>      And don't believe his lies!”</p>
<p>She gestured outside and wagged a finger right in Wirt’s face. The deep voices started harmonizing as she continued.</p>
<p>     “For once your will begins to spoil,<br/>      He'll turn you to a tree of oil,<br/>      And use you in his lantern<br/>      For to burn.”</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper plucked a hair from Wirt’s head, set it on fire using a candle, and blew it out into his face just before the flame reached her fingers.</p>
<p>Wirt was upset and confused. “Wait, wait, wait! Lantern? The Woodsman was the guy with the weird lantern, not the beast.”</p>
<p>The Tavern Keeper gestured condescendingly. “Pilgrim, he who carries the dark lantern must be the Beast.”</p>
<p>Wirt looked down, considering but still confused. “What? No, the Woodsman's a good guy. He warned us of the beast and told us which direction to go to avoid him.”</p>
<p>“And now you're more lost than ever, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but…” the teen trailed off. Then he got to his feet. “Oh, yeah, hey, can you give us some directions? Our friend Beatrice is trying to take us to Adelaide of the Pasture, the Good Woman of the Woods. She can help us get home.”</p>
<p>The Apprentice answered. Sort of. “You don't need directions, Pilgrim. You follow that compass inside your heart.” The blonde child patted his chest.</p>
<p>“Uh… No, I think we need directions.”</p>
<p>Someone screamed outside.</p>
<p>Wirt gasped and immediately turned towards the sound. “Beatrice!” he cried.</p>
<p>“Go save your friend and get yourself home!” the Tavern Keeper squeaked as she pumped her arms.</p>
<p>The others all cheered and shouted, saying. “Pilgrim! You got it!”</p>
<p>Wirt screwed up his mouth. “Uh… Okay.” He ran to the door.</p>
<p>Greg and the others followed him to the doorframe, cheering the whole time.</p>
<p>Wirt ran around to the side, jumped on the stall door, swung it open, and addressed the horse. “Oh, boy, I guess I'm really doing this. Horse, I'm just gonna pretend like I can ride you, all right?”</p>
<p>The horse neighed in response, and Wirt jumped on his back, grunting, as the horse galloped out. No one cared that he took their horse. He grabbed Greg and the frog as he was riding by. Then Wirt snatched a lantern as he left the tavern grounds.</p>
<p>They ran through the forest, lantern aloft, calling “Beatrice!” tentatively but loudly. Something howled in the distance. Suddenly, he saw an Edelwood tree. Covered in hollows that resembled faces, it was the kind that you supposedly turned into when the beast - no, the Beast - got to you. The wind, no longer rainy but still forceful, whistled like screams through it. “Another one of those trees,” Wirt whispered with trepidation.</p>
<p>“Halt!” The Woodsman yelled, appearing out of the trees.</p>
<p>“It’s you!” gasped Wirt.</p>
<p>Greg waved. “Hey, Mr. Woodsman!”</p>
<p>The old man snarled, back bent with a bundle of sticks, an ax in one had and the Lantern in another. “I told you to leave these woods!”</p>
<p>Wirt noticed Beatrice on top of an Edelwood tree root, out cold. He gasped again. “Beatrice! You're turning her into an Edelwood tree!” A sharp intake of breath. “You were the Beast all along!” Wirt blew out his lantern.</p>
<p>The Woodsman grunted. “Whoa, huh? What is this?” The horse reared up in front of him. Wirt held onto his leg, apparently having jumped off.</p>
<p>He shouted, “Greg! Get Beatrice!” grunting while using all of his (limited) might to restrain the Woodsman.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?!” The Woodsman lifted Wirt up by the scruff of his shirt, pushing the boy up against the tree trunk. Greg grabbed the bird. “Boys, the Beast is upon you!”</p>
<p>Scared for his life, Wirt kicked the Lantern out of the Woodsman’s grasp. “Agh! Ooh!” the old man cried, as it came open and set the tree on fire.</p>
<p>Everyone stared at the inferno for a second.</p>
<p>Then Wirt, Greg and his friends ran off. Wirt only stopped and looked back once, but continued into the cool dark. They got on the horse seconds later. </p>
<p>———</p>
<p>A neighing. Then, Beatrice woke up, cradled in the frog’s hands, who was in turn inside the teapot, which was being held by Greg, who was being held by Wirt, who was balancing on the horse’s back very carefully.</p>
<p>She groaned and looked up. If Beatrice had been human again, or at least had similar limbs, she would have rubbed her head to get some of the tension to go away.</p>
<p>Wirt made eye contact with her. “Beatrice, you all right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I just-” She dropped her eyes and shook her head side to side. “I saw a weird shadow and then stupidly flew into a tree and got knocked out,” she confessed with more than a little embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Well,” Wirt gave a small smile and focused back on the road ahead of them. “We’re all right now.”</p>
<p>“Wirt was amazing! He sang a song, rode a horse, and saved you from the axe guy! He's the Pilgrim!” Greg was absolutely thrilled.</p>
<p>Beatrice squinted up at them and said dismissively “That's all well and good, but you were supposed to get directions.”</p>
<p>Wirt looked smug. “I did. We just got directions from Fred before you woke up.”</p>
<p>“Who?” sassily spake Beatrice.</p>
<p>“Oh, uh, Beatrice, meet Fred the horse.” Wirt smiled and gestured at the horse.</p>
<p>With a Chicago accent, Fred greeted, “Nice to horse your acquaintance.”</p>
<p>Beatrice spread her wings in surprise. “You can talk?!”</p>
<p>Fred merely laughed as he galloped through the gloom. </p>
<p>———</p>
<p>Back where the tree once burned, the Woodsman picked up his ax.</p>
<p>A voice, deep and ominous, emanated from the darkness. “It seems you're running out of oil, Woodsman. Why not let me take the Lantern for awhile?”</p>
<p>The Woodsman bellowed with fury, “Begone, Beast! I've fought you for the Lantern before, and I'll fight you again!”</p>
<p>The Beast, pale chromatic eyes effulgent, made no movement. “No need for violence, Woodsman, but be sure to keep it lit, or your daughter's flame will go out … Forever.” he promised darkly.</p>
<p>The Woodsman stared morosely into the lantern, where a nebulous yellow figure seemed to toss and turn within the glass.</p>
<p>It tilted its head to the right, ever so slightly. “Now, what direction did those children go?”</p>
<p>Emboldened, the Woodsman vociferated, “You leave those children be!”</p>
<p>The Beast disappeared, a tenor laugh echoing into the tenebrous night.</p>
<p>“Beast!” he hollered. “Beast!”</p>
<p>All he got in return was:<br/>     “Tra la la la<br/>     Tra la la la<br/>     Chop the wood to light the fire!”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>